


almost (but not quite yet)

by Elissa



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Force Bond (Star Wars), Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Star Wars: The Last Jedi Spoilers, the author would like to formally inform you she doesn't know what the fuck she's doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 08:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13162818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elissa/pseuds/Elissa
Summary: During the day, they fight: words upon words of anger at the inability of the other to see the right path. It burns, more than the sun in the middle of the desert, more than the slash of a saber across the skin.On one thing, though, they agree: whichever it is, they will take it together. There is no other way but together, and that’s why, at night, they don’t speak: that’s the only truth they have, in a galaxy so full of lies, so they cling to it fiercely, almost greedily, in silence, sharing just fragments of feelings before sleep takes them away from each other.





	almost (but not quite yet)

The night is all they have.

At night, their resolve to fight –the bond, each other, themselves: they do nothing but fight, these days- weakens. He comes to her, nothing but pants and a pained expression on. She has learned not to avoid his gaze, even half-naked as he is. She has learned not to be afraid, for this is Ben Solo, just him and his fears and his feelings, and she is allowed to want, to feel herself. She knows nothing but this.

She comes to him in her undergarments, no saber in tow. She isn’t completely defenceless, as much as he isn’t, but the feelings they hold, let flow from one to another, make them much too vulnerable to even think about hurting each other. There would be no recover from it, so they don’t hit. She comes to him with her heart wide open. He has learned it’s not pity, never pity. He has learned to wash himself in the river of her compassion, soft and understanding.

They’re both tired of pretending, but neither of them is sure which part of it is a lie: is it their fighting, Light clashing against Dark, Rey, the Last Jedi, and Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, or the quiet nights when they’re just Rey and Ben, running away and towards each other? Everything feels so real it’s hard to discern which is easier to let go of.

During the day, they fight: words upon words of anger at the inability of the other to see the right path. It burns, more than the sun in the middle of the desert, more than the slash of a saber across the skin.  
On one thing, though, they agree: whichever it is, they will take it together. There is no other way but together, and that’s why, at night, they don’t speak: that’s the only truth they have, in a galaxy so full of lies, so they cling to it fiercely, almost greedily, in silence, sharing just fragments of feelings before sleep takes them away from each other.

Their nights always start with their hands touching.  
He’s usually already in bed, by the time their bond becomes more than a low humming in her head. She’s just starting to undress, peeling off the day with her clothes.

She can always feel him watching, though not with the embarrassed want of the first times it happened –that has long abated, along with her amused looks that said “Now who’s wishing the other was more dressed?”. The want is still there, though, raw and powerful like a flame, but tenderness has joined it too, soft and gentle; sadness has as well, because he knows this is the only way he’ll ever see her undress, a million light years away. ( _For now_ , he tries not to think. She tries, too, but it already hangs in the air between them.)

She feels helpless facing his pain –facing her own pain, so closely intertwined as they are- so she’s always the first to touch his hand, as lightly as she knows how. Even that feels momentous, like rain on her skin, like everything. She regrets not touching him, skin to skin, when she had the occasion. But t wouldn’t have been Ben she’d have touched, whispers a part of her, far away.

Ben, when he’s Ben and almost naked in her bed, doesn’t hold it against her. He just shares her sadness, and a wisp of anger at everything and nothing for never letting them have this opportunity.

He guides her hand, still in his, to his chest. It’s a ritual, of sorts; it’s assurance that he’s still in there, that he would break his ribcage open if it meant for them to be reunited as they should.

She knows she should discourage it, but how can she, when standing here in the dark she feels the same?

So she presses her palm against his heart, and feels the erratic beating.

“A Jedi shouldn’t feel what you feel, hasn’t Skywalker told you?” he once spit at her, in the light of day, venom in his words.

 _What she feels_.

What she feels, is this: either they live or die, this pulse under her hand, it’s hers. Her own is his. She is the depositary of his last breath and the ones within. (At first, she thought that it surely must have been him, his thoughts slowly poisoning her. By now, she knows better.)

What she feels, is this: when they’re together, she reaches a high never felt before. When they will be on the same path, they’ll be unstoppable.

What she feels, is this: her body thrumming at the same frequency as his; the longing, the desire to hold until the end of time.

What she feels, is this: there’s a light inside him that beacons her close, closer, until there is no space left. They make each other better, just by standing side by side. (They could ruin each other.)

What she feels, is this: if her last breath would be what it takes to give him peace, she’d gladly exhale for the last time. (She knows that it wouldn’t, so she keeps breathing.)

(What she feels is as simple as a word, yet as heavy as a planet, and she’s afraid to think it, because they’re light years away and it would break her heart.)

She doesn’t know, doesn’t understand, how all of this could ever turn her to the Dark Side. How could something so right be their ruin?

She presses her ear above their linked hands, above his heart. He sighs, and pushes his nose through her hair, as if smelling it. As if getting a fix for the next circadian cycle, when they’ll be back to fighting and he won’t be able to touch her as he is now, one hand intertwined with hers and the other pressed to her back, reassuring himself that she’s here, and she will be for the rest of the nights until the end.

They had tried to stop it, to stop the bond from making them meet and to stop each other from wanting it. But there’s no point: they always come back to this, the two of them surrounded by soft gray, the rest of the galaxy fading around them. Fighting it is just an exercise in futility, during the night, and it keeps both of them away from the sleep they so desperately need.

This, this is easier. It’s a truce. It’s the eye of the storm, where they rest before taking up the fight again.

It’s Light, in the midst of Darkness.

It’s Balance.

It’s more than they will ever get to have out there.

( _Maybe_ , whispers Hope, louder than their combined breaths, louder than the Universe itself, in this place where nothing and no one should reach them.)

So she raises her unoccupied hand, traces his unmarred cheek with her thumb, presses lightly with her index on his closed eyelid.

His head turns slightly, so that his lips are touching her palm. A kiss, almost (not quite yet).

“Let’s sleep” she murmurs. The hand at her back moves all the way up to her head, caressing her hair one last time. “Yes, let’s” he whispers back, impossibly soft, like he’s answering a completely different suggestion.

They sleep.

They stay the night.

**Author's Note:**

> oh boi i can't believe i lost my "writing and posting in your second language" v-card to this ship which until like twelve days ago i didn't even ship  
> anYWAY you came here expecting notes except i'm really shit at this whole thing and, as i said, i don't know what the fuck i'm doing. english is -quite clearly, if you ask me- not my first language, and since i'm really a Bad Person i didn't get this mini-fic proofread by someone who isn't my anxious self, so if you spot any mistake, feel absolutely free to let me know! this is a learning experience and i really really want to improve at this whole thing.  
> as for the fic plot-wise,,,,,, i really think this could go on. i'm actually already onto the second scene but, since i'm known for my procrastination skills and this is kind of auto-conclusive, i thought 'why not?' and decided that posting it would maybe give me the strenght to keep on writing. so, the thing is: if i ever finish writing the whole story i have in mind, i'll update this fic. if i don't, at least this has a sort-of-hopeful ending, i guess  
> alSO BEFORE I FORGET *blows a kiss* to the reylo crowd on facebook who has managed to drag me into this whole mess of a ship i'm literally giving my heart to, y'all will probably never read this but i love you  
> that's it i guess


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